Page 34 of Crown of Storm and Silence
The bite that follows is sharp, possessive, marking me as surely as any brand. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of my inner thigh, and instead of pain, it sends me flying over the edge once more, my vision whiting out as pleasure consumes everything.
I explode for him again, body seizing around his fingers, sobbing as stars burst behind my eyelids and I drown in ecstasy so intense it’s almost unbearable.
This time, the light that erupts from me is blinding, a supernova of sensation that seems to tear through the fabric of the dream itself. I'm dimly aware of crying out, of my body convulsing with the force of release, of Kaan's satisfied growl against my skin.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to the bite mark he's left behind. "Absolutely beautiful. This is how you're supposed to look—wild and glowing and completely mine."
His fingers are still inside me as he kisses upward, trailing over my stomach, my breasts, finally my mouth, giving me back the taste of my own surrender.
I wake with a gasp, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of an orgasm that felt far too real to be just a dream.My clothes are soaked with sweat, my pulse racing like I've run for miles, and between my thighs?—
The bite mark.
Two perfect crescents on my inner thigh, red and raised and absolutely real. I stare at them in horror, my mind struggling to process what I'm seeing. Dreams don't leave marks. Dreams don't?—
But apparently, they do when the dreamer is a creature of shadow and power who operates by rules I don't understand.
I sit up slowly, my body still humming with residual pleasure that makes shame burn hot in my cheeks. How can I feel this way about something that was done to me without permission? How can my treacherous body miss the touch of a man who invaded my dreams like a common thief?
But even as the questions torment me, I can't deny the truth—it hadn't felt like a violation in the dream. It had felt like coming home.
Rage fills me, hot and fierce and utterly consuming. How dare he? How dare he invade my dreams, touch me in my sleep, take advantage of my vulnerability? The healing power in my hands sparks to life, responding to my fury, and for a moment, the cottage fills with golden light that makes the shadows flee.
I need to find him. I need to confront him about this violation, this impossible invasion of my most private thoughts. But where would he be? In our last conversation by the river, he'd said he would stay close—close enough to hear me scream if anyone threatened me, close enough to protect what he claimed was his.
12
THE PRICE OF DREAMS
Nesilhan
The words echoin my memory as I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the lingering heat of the dream. He'd spoken like a man claiming territory, marking boundaries around something precious. But where would such a creature make his camp?
I think of the dark woods that ring the village, of the ancient ruins that dot the hillsides like broken teeth. A man made of shadows wouldn't choose the warm, welcoming spaces that normal people prefer. He would seek somewhere that matched his nature—somewhere dark and removed from the simple lives of villagers who fear what they don't understand.
The old watchtower. Mira's voice echoes in my memory—something she'd mentioned in passing about the abandoned guard post on the hill overlooking the village, built generations ago when bandits were more of a threat. She'd said it's been empty for years, slowly crumbling back into the earth, but it would offer an unobstructed view of the entire village. Aperfect vantage point for someone keeping watch over what he considers his.
I dress quickly in my simplest clothes—a plain brown dress and sturdy boots—and braid my hair back with sharp, angry movements. Every gesture is infused with the fury burning in my chest, each step sending a sharp reminder through my inner thigh where his teeth marked me—the bite throbs with each heartbeat, a physical echo of what he stole from me in sleep.
The pre-dawn air is cool against my heated skin as I slip out of the cottage, careful not to wake Mira or Banu. But apparently, I'm not as stealthy as I thought.
"Going somewhere interesting?"
I spin around to find Elçin leaning against the cottage wall, already fully dressed in her leather armor despite the early hour. Her storm-gray eyes take in my appearance with uncomfortable accuracy—the hastily braided hair, the fury radiating from every line of my body, the way I'm moving like something hurts.
"This is none of your business," I say sharply.
"Everything about you is my business now," she replies, pushing off from the wall with fluid grace that speaks of decades of training and battles I can't even imagine. "Family tends to work that way. Besides, you look like you're about to march off and confront someone, and given recent arrivals to our quiet little village..." She trails off meaningfully, her dark eyes scanning the shadows like she's cataloging every possible threat.
"I'm not—" I start, then stop, because she's probably right.
"Where are you going?" she asks, her voice gentling in a way that suggests she's had practice talking people down from ledges—literal and metaphorical.
"The watchtower," I admit. "Mira mentioned it overlooks the village."
Elçin nods thoughtfully, and I catch the way her expression shifts—calculating, strategic. "Logical choice for someone whowants to keep watch." Her tone is carefully neutral, but I catch the way her hand rests near her sword hilt with practiced ease. "Mind if I come along? I'd rather not have to explain to the rest of our family why I let you wander off alone when there are... dangerous individuals in the area." The way she says it makes it clear she's not just talking about physical danger.
The village sleeps peacefully around us, unaware that its quiet healer is stalking through their streets like an avenging angel, hunting the creature who dared to touch her in dreams. Elçin moves beside me with fluid, silent steps, her weapons catching what little moonlight filters through the clouds.
